


Notches

by jardindesetoiles



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Bondage, Dark, Drug-Induced Sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, It's Not Good, M/M, Mention of Eonwe, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Scratching, Seriously Melkor is being so awful to Mairon in this just please do not take this to be good, Temperature Play, Violence, angbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:36:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4678778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jardindesetoiles/pseuds/jardindesetoiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A really, really really dark fic in which Melkor punishes Mairon (again) in a very unique way, this time set in the dungeons of Utumno.  SERIOUSLY NSFW AND DO HEED THE WARNINGS.</p><p>Written as part of a fic exchange with theeventualwinner.  Hope you like it, dear!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Notches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theeventualwinner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theeventualwinner/gifts).



Fastening the final, biting leather strap, Melkor stood back to admire his handiwork, a mischievous sneer playing upon his lips.  _“Are you comfortable, little one?”_ He asked in a tone that would sound gentle if not for its bite, not really caring right now whether or not his lieutenant was happy.

 _“No,”_ Mairon spat, anger shining brilliantly in his eyes.  _“Master,”_ he asked impudently, _“what have I possibly done to displease you this time?!”_ He struggled against his bonds, which held him naked and dangerously spread-eagled across one of the dungeon’s many wooden racks, and gnashed his teeth in his frustration.  Really, Melkor thought, the Maia looked _so_ much better like this.  Circling the rack, he regarded and studied every inch of Mairon’s body as a lion would circle its prey.

Suddenly, he came to a stop, and leaned in.  Forcing Mairon’s head back into the wood, he appraised a dark, deep bruise on his neck.  A love bite.  _“Hmm… I do not remember giving you this one,”_ he purred dangerously, running a finger over the mark, _“and yet, I do not remember giving you_ permission _to bed another, little one.”_  He turned his gaze upon the Maia’s now, blind fury shining just behind his golden eyes.  _“So tell me,”_ he growled out, _“who have you forced me to sentence to death?”_

A twinge of fear shocked itself through the Maia’s system, but he refused to bend so easily to the Vala’s will—after several centuries in Melkor’s service, the fear and awe he once felt no longer even troubled him.  _“You have no jurisdiction over him, my Lord,”_ Mairon replied sickly sweet and defiant, _“he does not answer to your orders.”_

The hard slap cracked over his cheek forced his head back again, yet even as his cheek stung and burned, the bone certainly bruised, he only stared his Master down.  _“I will never tell you his name.”_   He could never have counted on Melkor’s response.

 _“As you wish,”_ the Vala ground out.  _“Perhaps, then, if you are so wanton and starved for my touch, I ought to remind you of to whom you belong.”_   Without another word, he took a vial from his robe and unstoppered it.  Descending upon Mairon with a fury unequaled, he forced his lieutenant’s jaw open despite the expected protests and poured every drop of liquid down the waiting throat. 

Obliged to swallow, the Maia sputtered and choked for a moment until he could recover his dignity.  That Melkor stood back with a disgusting smirk on his face gave Mairon pause; he was not certain of what this drug might do, but he had the secret suspicion that he did not wish to find out.

He did not have to wait long to find out, as his body began to physically respond almost immediately to the effects of the mysterious potion: without reason or provocation, his cock now strained so agonizingly against his stomach that he almost felt ready to beg, simply to make the pain cease.

The Vala smirked at his servant and traced one icy finger up the length of Mairon’s length.  _“I believe, little one, that this drug lasts for eight hours.  This shall be your punishment and if, by the end of these eight hours, you deign to tell me who you have fated to die, I will not subject you to a second dose.”_

He took a moment then to simply gaze upon the redhead, to imagine how pretty that face would look, how tortured, when Melkor brought him to ecstatic climax.  _“This is your last chance, my precious one,”_ he murmured threateningly, delicately cupping Mairon’s cheek.  _“Tell me who has despoiled you, and I can make this punishment as sweet as any you have ever experienced.  Come now, tell me.”_

“N-no…No.  NO!”  Mairon groaned his reply, body already quaking.

Without moving away in the slightest, Melkor drew in to nip at his lieutenant’s ear and lave its shell.  _“Then remember, Mairon, that you have forced my hand.  I have no choice but to do these things to you.”_

And he attacked the spirit’s skin with a vigor he hadn’t used upon the Maia in at least a century.  Every nip, every bite, every hard scrape of teeth and nails mapping a pattern over creamy, freckled skin naught but torturous in its accuracy.  When the redhead screamed, Melkor urged him forward.

 _“You asked for this, precious.  Do not forget whose hands are now upon you.  If I so choose I can rend you apart,”_ his voice softened to a placating whisper, _“though it would be a much greater pleasure for both of us if you tell me the truth.  Come now, Mairon, don’t be shy… can’t you see that I do not_ wish _to punish you?  Truly, you give me no choice when you lie to me…”_

He shook his head, trying to turn away from his Master’s devilish face.  _“I won’t.”_

Another possessive growl, and the icy, burning hand bringing Mairon to climax left tender, abused skin and over-sensitive nerves in its wake.  In the same moment his Lord whispered dark words against his neck, and bit down so hard as to nearly draw blood, the spirit screamed himself through the burning, painful release he’d felt ready to beg for.  It would be too kind, however, to hope for it to end.

Instead of the bliss of relief and relaxation which usually accompanied his release, Mairon found that the drug kept his body enslaved to its will.  In spite of the spend painted in thick, white ropes across his belly, his cock still burned and pulsed with need so great he would rip his own hair out if it would quell the feeling.  He noticed his master cutting a notch into the wood of the rack.

 _“Oh, but you come apart so beautifully, little one.”_ Dipping his head to take one sensitive, swollen nipple between his lips, Melkor tongued at the piercing and laved at it until his lieutenant whined in pain.  With this cue, he exhaled a stinging, icy breath over the spit-slicked nub.  The hiss of pain brought a sadistic grin to his face once more.  _“Judging by your cock,”_ he began, _“you still wish to be punished.  What sort of a Lord would I be to deny his_ favorite _lieutenant?”_

Once more, he brought his icy, burning hand to Mairon’s cock and coaxed him dry, thoroughly enjoying every moment of this exchange between them.

\--

Five notches later, Mairon could barely remember his own name, let alone how it felt to be free of the painful, humiliatingly constant pulse between his legs.  His balls were sore, his length burned, and his thighs bloody from a particularly gory moment in which Melkor had decided to try and scratch him even harder.  Anymore, the Maia felt ready to sacrifice _anything_ just to make it all stop; to somehow regain both his dignity and control over his own body’s desires.  He couldn’t be strong.  He couldn’t take it.  Hoarsely, he whispered, _“Eonwe.”_

Melkor wondered for a moment whether he’d been hearing things; Mairon spoke so softly it could be questionable as to whether he’d spoken at all.  Nonetheless he caressed the Maia’s face, bruised and beaten as it was from slamming against the wood.  The slap from earlier had left one cheek a mess of mottled, broken skin.  _“What did you say, my precious one?”_

 _“I-I said… I said Eonwe, Master,”_ Mairon gasped in a voice cracked from screaming.  _“It was Eonwe.  He did this to me.  But I swear to you, Master, I did not want it; he… he tried to take me by force!”_ Tears flowed freely now down his face, and he internally cursed himself for this utter lack of decorum before his Lord.

And when his Master cupped his intact cheek, and brushed his tears away one rough, dry thumb, he could have forgotten the pain for a single, beautiful moment.

 _“There, there, little one,”_ his Master all but cooed, _“you did very well for your Lord.  Such a good boy…”_ Melkor took him down from the rack, then, and cradled him delicately in his lap.  _“Don’t you see, precious one, that when you obey your Master, he is merciful to you in return?  Because you obey, I can make the last six hours of your punishment less painful.  Now then…”_ He brought his hand to Mairon’s cock yet again, this time forgoing his icy magic for a warmer touch, and began to stroke him slowly as the Maia sobbed quietly against him.  _“You’ll be alright, Mairon.  Remember that you only reap what you deserve, and,”_ he darkened momentarily and gave a hard squeeze to the flesh in his fingers, _“if you_ ever _force me to punish you like this again, I will chain you to my throne for eternity.  You are_ mine.  _Do not forget it.”_

Mairon could only nod against his Master’s chest and wish dearly for sleep, though it would be hours before it would find him.

Eighteen more notches were added to the rack; twenty-four in total.

The Maia never again strayed from his Lord.


End file.
